Letting Ana Go (26 page)

Authors: Anonymous

BOOK: Letting Ana Go

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But he brought me a card with a joke about having pi on
my birthday instead of cake (guh-rooooan) and it had a $25 gift card for iTunes in it. Which was cool and so sweet of him, but he just signed his name. Shoulda known when he didn’t write anything personal. Just “Happy B-Day! Nate.”

But he was really funny and sweet at dinner. He sat across from me and told us all this hilarious story about when he was growing up in Nebraska and he and his brother raised sheep for the county fair. (Yes. Apparently people still raise animals and take them to fairs where they win ribbons and titles and scholarships. Thank you, CHARLOTTE’S WEB.)

One morning he and his brother went out to scoop food out of these big 25-pound sacks of feed for the sheep, and there was a mouse in one of the bags that ran up his little brother’s jacket sleeve. He was telling us about how he thought his brother had been possessed by a demon because he kept screaming and shaking his arms and beating at his chest and running around in a circle while the mouse wriggled around inside his shirt. We were all crying, we were laughing so hard, and Cam almost inhaled a bite of shrimp, which sent him on a coughing fit that made the rest of us laugh even harder.

He jumped up and helped me clear the table when Mom asked who wanted dessert. When Mom told him he didn’t need to do that, he smiled at me and said, Oh yes, ma’am, I do. My mama’d fly in from Grand Island and smack me if I didn’t.

When we were in the kitchen, I started rinsing plates and he loaded them into the dishwasher like he lived here. We were laughing and joking around and no one mentioned geometry. He was so easy to talk to, easy to be near. I didn’t feel nervous even once. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if we were married and this was our house and we were loading the dishwasher together. That’s probably stupid, but it made me feel hopeful inside, like maybe something like that was possible.

When Nate bent over to put the final plate in the dishwasher, a necklace fell out of his shirt. It had a tiny key on it, and I was about to ask him where he got it, but Mom came into the kitchen to get some coffee mugs and the French press. Nate tucked the necklace back into his polo before I could ask him about it, but I shoulda known.

There’s a long porch on the back of our house that looks over the bottom of the canyon out to the water. We ate dessert out there. Dad lit the candles in the big lanterns on the table outside. Cam sat next to Nate and they talked soccer. The flicker made their skin glow like they were on the beach at sunset. Nate looked all sun-kissed and happy. I felt a foot nudge mine just for a second under the table and my heart started racing. I was glad that it was just the candles outside in the dark ’cause I started to blush like crazy. I thought maybe Nate had touched my foot,
and I kept sliding mine a little bit closer toward him under the table, but his foot never touched mine again.

It was almost 10 when he pulled out his phone and checked it, then said, Whoa. I gotta go.

I felt really bummed all of a sudden, and then silly. What was I hoping? That he’d stay and walk me down to the beach? He stood up and shook my dad’s hand, then gave Cam one of those weird hugs that guys give each other where they grab hands like they’re gonna shake and then lean in and hug with their arms caught in between them. He kissed my mom on the cheek and told her what a good cook she was.

Then he looked right at me and said, Will you walk me to my truck?

I got so many butterflies in my stomach, I thought they might start flying out of my ears. I said SURE, and realized that nobody had really heard him ask that because Mom was pouring more wine and Dad was pouring more coffee and Cam was texting somebody. So I slipped into the house and out the front door.

He’d parked on the street, and when he got to the door of his pickup, he leaned against it and looked up at the sky and said, Huh.

I said, What?

He told me that in Nebraska at this time of night you
could see lots of stars. I followed his gaze up to the sky, but I knew there wouldn’t be any stars. Out here, the sky just glows this weird purply color even on the darkest night here. It’s the light pollution bouncing off of the marine layer, I said. It’s what happens at night when 8 million people get jammed up against the ocean. I turned around and stood next to him with my back up against the truck.

He said it was funny how you always hear about all the stars in Los Angeles, but at night in Nebraska, it’s like the sky is covered with diamonds. Then he looked over at me, and I don’t know what happened, but I just knew that I had to feel his lips on mine. So I leaned in and kissed him.

Nate jumped like I’d shot him with a taser. He said, WHOA, what are you doing? OMG! I was SO EMBARRASSED I couldn’t even LOOK at him. It was like we were having this PERFECT night, and then BLAM-O: I broke the spell. I was blushing and stammering and then I felt the tears come to my eyes, and I didn’t wait. I just sprinted back across the street toward the house. I was not going to let him see me cry.

As my foot hit the curb on the other side of the street, he said WAIT!

There was something in the way he said it that made me turn around. And then he shook his head and smacked his forehead, and he walked over to me, and just looked at me.
He pushed my hair over my shoulder and said, No. I’m sorry.

He told me that I had come along two years too late. And that I was beautiful. And that he has a girlfriend.

I shoulda thought about that. I shoulda never invited him to dinner tonight.

I shoulda known.

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Jacket designed by Karina Granda

The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.

Library of Congress Control Number 2012956565

ISBN 978-1-4424-7223-5 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-4424-7213-6 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-4424-7214-3 (eBook)

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